Chapter Text
Simon never imagined celebrating Christmas in a royal castle, surrounded by the wealthy (all of them sharing family trees). A setting too fantastic even for a movie.
They were in Denmark’s Christian XVII palace. It had been a struggle to not only convince The Queen but also their PR teams to let them go together, despite it was unheard of as they were still too young to entertain the idea of marriage (or compromise) as an excuse. Wille and Simon had prepared detailed arguments (the most important being that they were popular, and hence them side by side in such a relevant event would put Wille —and the Swedish crown— in a good light).
“Good publicity,” Simon had said. “Isn’t that what you like?”
The scent of vanilla cookies and cinnamon merged perfectly in the air, reaching even the farthest corners of the southwestern palace. Its rococo interior sent shivers through every fibre of his skin, like when he woke up next to Wille. Yet, at the same time, those shivers were of hesitant coldness, as he knew he was out of place. The walls mocked him, in a cynical manner, despite Simon standing straight and with his head held high.
“I trust his Royal Highness and master Simon are ready,” said absentmindedly the head of Wille’s PR team.
“Yes, we are,” they agreed.
“We read everything sent to us,” Wille added.
“Should I remind The Crown Prince and master Simon the attendees you will encounter?”
“We ought to,” confirmed Simon’s PR director.
He and Wille exchanged a look but remained silent.
“Following the host royal family, each will be announced and enter in alphabetical order for the dinner, where tables are named.”
“It may seem a considerable amount of royals will be present, though it is solely those with the closest family bonds with the Danish house.”
“Representing them will be the reigning monarchs, their two sons and their respective children. Then, the Belgium royals with the monarchs, The Crown Princess and her brother. For the British royal family only both princes will attend. Subsequently, the Dutch royals with their three daughters. Later, the former Greek royal house with The Crown Prince and Princess, as well as their five children. Then, for the Luxembourg Dukedom will be the Grand Duke and Duchess with the princes and princess. And the Norwegian royals with their children. To close, your family, Crown Prince.”
“There won’t be as many cameras, as The Queen of Denmark asked for this to be more of a family matter. However, have in mind the key moments will be posed and then shared on social media. Additionally, each royal house has their teams that will take photos of their members mingling and having a marvellous family gathering, so there’s that too.”
“The ball will be more grand , hence more cameras. Anyhow, you are both public figures and with questionable acts in your curriculum. Be wise, your Royal Highness, be cunning master Simon.”
Tension settled on Wille’s shoulders. Simon frowned and walked a little closer, so their hands would brush. “I understand,” their voices clear, but deep as every step meant the seconds shortened.
In preparation for that night, they were assigned to wear regal blue hues. Simon was aware that the gesture attempted to showcase a unity from them, harmony and a strong relationship. He and Wille had matching dark navy blue suits in Louis XV style. They were costume-made for the occasion so that at the bottom of the jacket, past their waists, the golden embroidery had a delicate detail of their initials. The original request Wille had sent was for the ‘W’ and ‘S’ to be tangled together but that wasn’t accepted. Still, Simon had to admit the damned fancy suit was comfortable and he looked like a whole different person ( “Guapísimo” had said his mom.) Their whole outfits weren’t the end of things because apart from the matching cuffs he and Wille were asked to choose for themselves, he also wore his prince’s gift that he had given him in advance. It settled warm and made his eyes water every time he looked at it: Annie Berner’s silver ‘lovers bangle’ bracelet. Wille had his own and they both shone like the stars.
The sounds became louder progressively as they approached their destination. It almost felt out of a monarchy series, one of the many online. Once they turned around the corner, there were Wille’s parents, a queen and a king. As crazy as it may seem, because of loving and falling in love, that sight would be part of his life for the years to come. Voices muffled behind the door at their backs from which now Simon could distinguish a wide range of accents and languages. The Queen wore a crown with blue precious stones in it. Jesus Christ, that thing probably could guarantee he never had to worry about money for the rest of his existence.
“Mother, father,” Wille greeted them.
“Your majesties,” he said.
“Good evening, Wille, Simon,” she answered, then looked at the two women behind them. “Are they ready?”
“As much as they can be, your Majesty.”
“Alright, it is time.”
The four of them faced the door and The Queen nodded to the valet.
“You’ll love my cousins,” Wille whispered to him. “Hold my hand.”
Inside the anteroom, royal heads turned towards them. Simon tried not to break Wille’s fingers from the pressure. With a deep breath, Wille guided him towards where his parents waited, at the end of the queue.
“Do you remember the flashcards?” he murmured in his ear.
Panic rose in Simon. “There were so many!” he complained in a low tone. “I remember a few faces and names, but all the titles and… ay no, Wille .”
Seven young royals around their age were walking towards them. Simon knew they were cousins of Wille, but well, everyone was cousins of each other in that room.
Wille beamed upon seeing them. “Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you, mi amor .”
Simon was taught about protocols for this sort of thing, but well, in the first place they weren’t supposed to talk to them until the ball. Should he bow? Address them with their official titles? He didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard. What were even their names?!
The youngest one hugged Wille first, her blond hair lighter than his. “Wille! Te extrañé! ”
Simon quickly searched in his memory bank for her name. The spanish helped to narrow her country but was she the Crown Princess or the Infanta.
The rest quickly hugged Wille as well, exchanging mechanical bows and curtsies, short words and smiles that reached their eyes. Simon bowed his head, missing his prince’s hand on his.
“I would love to introduce you to my cousins, Simon.”
He nodded and copied Wille’s familiar smile.
“We’ve heard so much from him about you,” a dark haired prince intervened, his laugh sounding expensive. He was the tallest of them and Simon could have swore he saw him in a magazine.
“You are…anyway. This is Simon Eriksson, my boyfriend and the greatest singer I know of.”
The same guy from before stretched his hand. “Prince Nicholas of here ,” he gestured around them. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”
Simon accepted it and prayed his hand wasn’t sweating. “I hope he didn’t embarrass me much, your highness.”
“More like he embarrassed himself,” a light brown girl smiled at him. “Hi, Simon. I am Catherine of Orange.”
“Your Royal Highness, nice to meet you.”
“Please, titles are not needed between families, only for the cameras, and well, the rest of the world.”
“Besides, some might lose theirs. By some I mean me and my brother if the rumours are true and my grandmother decides that,” Nicholas whispered bitterly, though hiding it behind his blinding smile.
“Are you going to get depressed again?” A real-life Adonis stepped closer, next to him a very similar but shorter prince laughed.
“We’re merely honorary princes,” he said. “At least the good genes of the family reached us.”
“Oh, spare me, Achi.”
Wille cleared his throat.
“Right, sorry little Wille,” the Adonis shook his hand. “Constantine of Greece and Denmark. Please just call me Tino.”
“And I’m Achilleas. You look really good in that suit, Simon!”
“If I did not know, I would think you were a born-prince,” a chestnut haired princess complimented him. “Liliane of Belgium.”
“He does! Hola, soy Luciana, princesa de Asturias .”
“ Al fin alguien que habla español, ” Simon sighed.
“ Oh, el poder que tenemos .”
“You know we were taught a million languages as we grew up…?” the last one of their group asked. “Especially if we are heirs to the throne. Hello Simon, I’m Henrik of Norway.”
“But please, none are fluent as a native,” Luciana argued.
“Maybe not, but I bet Willie with all the special time he spends with Simon…”
“Nicholas!” Wille’s neck gained a red tint. “Shut. Up.”
“Um, well. We are about to enter so I will save my funny childhood stories for later.”
The warm feeling that had spread around Simon after talking with Wille’s cousins for less than five minutes disappeared instantly and was replaced by icing dread. Once everyone was in their places, Simon took Wille’s hand again, a request that didn’t need words.
As described per their PR teams, the grandeur of the dinner was aesthetically discreet. When it was their turn to make their entrance, Simon steadied as best as he could the uncontrolled rhythm of his heart. He counted the steps inside of his head , his eyes —trained for a short period of time— looking naturally in front of him, with the occasional glance to his sides as he continued to smile softly.
At every given time, whether by fixing his hair or moving his hand in any way, Simon showcased his bracelet. Perhaps unintentionally, reasonable only for his heart, yet he loved the idea of it shining in the photos. He felt protected wearing his now most prized possession. Oh, and he certainly used to his advantage when, during the first moments of the ball, he was holding an ade drink in a fancy glass for the same purpose. Surrounded by the notes of a classical quartet, after The Queen guided them to make rounds and introduced him to the rest of the royals, he and Wille stayed on the left, enjoying the music. His cousins approached them once more. Luciana handed him the best pastries that ever existed. Nicholas recounted that time when he was six. ‘ Little Wille ’ was two and they found him building a snowman in her mother’s throne room while wearing diapers.
“I remember Erik holding a mop and taking the blame,” Tino drank the rest of his wine.
The melody changed and soon pairs or groups joined in the centre. Simon saw the glint in Wille’s eyes light up with renewed force and he basked in it. Seconds shortened while Wille’s brightness grew.
As they rested, reunited again with the royals Simon was starting to consider friends, hand intertwined with his prince’s, his world paused, sounds muffled and he opened his eyes to older versions of themselves. He knew , somehow, they had graduated already, though how long ago it was uncertain. In those frozen breaths, Simon is aware of the constellation inside of him, his muscles loose. He is a star , a singer, a performer. All these facts integrated in his skin, accustomed to them, as to the attention of his endless but marvellous night. Next to him, Wille is glowing , mature features, slightly longer pristine hair, and a dashing princely smile. He doesn’t seem to carry Atlas’ burden on him, nor have that camouflaged guilty look whenever he is with Simon in public. Wille is happy, is comfortable despite the smiling, nodding and courteous head bows he makes whenever someone approaches and addresses both of them. Simon looks briefly to his elegant champagne glass and sees his reflection. It returns him a gaze full of history and wisdom. The second word not being something he thought he would ever relate to him. The older Simon glances at his side towards his left hand and that’s when he realises Wille’s glow isn’t solely on him, nor due to the scenery around them, but because of the significance of the diamond ring he wears. The light reveals almost imperceptible purple details in it, and looking closely, it resembles a flor de mayo , orchid cattleya mossiae.
At the next blink, he was back. Simon frowned and took a sip of the peach flavoured ade on his ringless hand, bracelet glowing. He felt…revolved, as if he had come out of a rollercoaster after enjoying pleasurable amounts of sugar. When he turned to look at Wille, he felt settled.
He had and would always be his best choice.